


See You Again

by MyloveofChocolate



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Death, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Meeting Again, My first Hobbit Fic, Reunions, be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyloveofChocolate/pseuds/MyloveofChocolate
Summary: Bilbo lost the love of his life on Ravenhill. He spent 80 years mourning him and missing him.When Death comes for Bilbo, he welcomes it with a smile.He hopes he will see Thorin again.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86





	See You Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Tolkien fic so please be kind. There’s a bunch of time jumps so hopefully it’s easy to follow.  
> Thank you for reading.

“Go back to your books, and your armchair.” Thorin smiled, blood and grim caked to his face. “Plant your trees, watch them grow.” His voice was growing weaker, his eyes darkening. 

Bilbo forced back the sob that was threatening to come out and he shook his head. This couldn’t be the end. This was not where Thorin Oakenshield’s story ended. Where their story ended. 

“No. No. Don’t do this.” Bilbo pleaded, all the while blood soaked his hand, the one holding Thorins was shaking. “Don’t leave me” 

Thorin blinked, watching as tears formed in green eyes. “I love you, Bilbo Baggins.” 

Bilbo's eyes widened, his mouth open in shock. Then his face twisted and a broken plea fell from his lips. “Please don’t go. Please keep fighting. Please. I love you too, so please fight. For me, for us.” 

Oh how Thorin wanted too. How he wanted to reach up and wipe the tears from Bilbo's dirty, but no less beautiful, face. How he yearned to put a smile back on his lips. But he had no strength left. No more fight. His journey was at an end, and he would join his forefathers in the Halls of Mahal. 

“My time is at an end, _Ghivashel.”_ Thorin rasped, his breathing shallow and labored. “You must let me go.” 

“Never!” Bilbo cried, frantically pressing onto Thorin's wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but it was in vain. Even if it stopped, the King had already lost too much blood, his lungs already collapsed. 

The edges of Thorin's vision were going dark, unfocused, and he looked at his love one last time. “Farewell, _amrâlimê.”_

Bilbo watched helplessly as the last bit of light left Thorin's eyes, his last breath leaving in a sigh, his hand clasped in Bilbo's gone limp.

“No! No no! Thorin” Bilbo moved his hand from the wound to shake Thorin's shoulder, but the dwarrow did not respond. “No.” Bilbo sobbed, pulled away, pulled his knees to his chest, and cried. Cried until he could not speak, or think, or shed another tear. 

He did not know how long he sat there, the body of the one he loved and had not had the courage to say something until it was too late, laying next to him. 

“Bilbo!” Dwalin’s voice pulled Bilbo from his mourning. The large dwarf sounded relieved to find Bilbo alive, but also concerned. “Have ye seen Thorin?” 

Bilbo slowly looked at Dwalin, his eyes rimmed with red, clean streaks left from tears cut through grim and blood. 

Dwalin’s eyes widened before they shifted behind Bilbo, to a pair of legs. “No.” His voice was a whisper, and he shook his head while taking a shaking step towards Bilbo, his eyes trained on what he hoped wasn’t what he knew it was. 

There laid Thorin. His cousin, his brother in arms, his friend, his King. 

The hammer fell from Dwalins grip, the ice shattering from the weight and Dwalin dropped to his knees, his head hung low. “No.”

————

“—and Thorin Oakenshield will pass on into legend.” Balin said, voice thick as he looked up into the sky. 

“I understand that that is what you do—need to do, but he was never that to me.” Bilbo spoke, voice hoarse from crying. “He was—” he broke off, grief tightening his throat. “He was…” he looked down at the ground. _He was the love of my life._

Balin smiled, sad and understanding. He had noticed the sneaking glances when the other was not looking. He had known Thorin his whole life and could tell that the brooding Durin was madly in love with the hobbit, and he had suspicions about Bilbo’s feelings, and his reaction at the funeral only cemented his thoughts. That knowledge somehow made the pain worse. They had not been able to explore their feelings for one another, and now they never would.

“Say goodbye to the others for me.” Bilbo said, barely looking at Balin as he made to move. 

“Tell them yerself.”

———

“Cousin please see reason.” Drogo Baggins sighed, exasperated at Bilbo’s stubbornness. 

“There is no reason in what you are saying.” Bilbo hissed, moving around the dining room just for something to do. This was the third time this month that Drogo and/or Primula Baggins have attempted to have this conversation. 

“There is!” Drogo flapped his arm at his side, much like Bilbo did. “You’re not getting any younger. Surely you would want to find love, settle down, have a few faunts.”

“If I wanted that, I would have done so.” Bilbo hissed, quickly losing the small amount of patience he had. 

Drogo groaned, obviously irritated. Good, let him be, trying to navigate Bilbo’s personal life. 

“You would be a great father. Nothing would make you happier than a faunt.” 

“Do not claim to know what would make me happy.” 

“But you’re a hobbit! And a Baggins at that! Children are Yavanna’s greatest gift! She’s blessed Prim and I with one—“ 

“And I’m happy for you, truly I am, but a life like that is not in the cards for me.” 

“It could be!” Drogo exclaimed. “If you would just let it happen. Honestly cousin, you’ve changed since you came back from that ‘adventure’ thirty years ago.” 

Bilbo stilled his ever busy hands, and he started at the table, eyes glazed over. Drogo blinked. He watched his distant cousin and was amazed to see a shimmer of tears in his eyes. The ‘adventure’ was not mentioned often anymore, but it had been the scandal of the Shire thirty years back. 

“Any chance I had of love was taken from me.” Bilbo’s whispered, voice watery. He looked at Drogo, eyes shining in the candle light, a sad smile on his face. “I will not love another.” 

Drogo did not know of whom Bilbo was speaking, and he did not ask. That was the last time he and his wife tried to change the long lived bachelor of Bag-End. 

————

Bilbo watched with bated breath as Rangers combed the lake. They had found a boat, but no bodies. Not yet. 

He knew deep in his heart that Drogo and Primula were gone. 

He turned his head in a daze to see a small little faunt, sitting with a blanket around his small shoulders, staring at the lake with empty blue eyes.

He immediately walked up to his second cousin, once removed. “Frodo.” 

Frodo blinked at him. “Uncle Bilbo” he smiled softly. 

Bilbo kneeled down in front of the child. “Let’s go back to my place. It’s nearly tea time.” 

Frodo only nodded and Bilbo picked him up in his arms and made off to Bag-End. 

Almost an hour later, they were sitting at Bilbos table, enjoying tea, and cakes. 

Frodo was munching away, and then he suddenly put his fork down, his eyes down cast. 

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo asked softly. 

“My parents aren’t coming back, are they?” 

Bilbo breathed in deeply. “No. No I don’t think so” 

Frodo nodded, bright blue eyes blank. Frodo was only twelve. Far too young to be all alone. To be so...sad. 

Frodo then let out a small sound, a mix of a whimper and a whine. “Where will I live? I can’t live on my own.” 

Bilbo watched the small hobbit, one who he loved greatly. “You could live with me.” He said on impulse. Though he meant it. He loved Frodo very much. Frodo’s eyes widened and he started at Bilbo with disbelief. “If you would like” Bilbo put in after a long stretch of silence. 

Frodo snapped his mouth shut and blinked. “Live with you. Here?” 

“Well, yes” 

Frodo frowned at his words and lowered his gaze to the table, his mind working. He was quite smart for one so young. He then met Bilbo's eyes. “Will that make you happy?” 

Bilbo was not expecting that and he furrowed his brows. “What?” 

“Mom and dad always talk about how...sad you are. They are... _were_ very concerned. Said they haven’t seen a real smile on your face since your ‘adventure’” Frodo actually did air quotes with his fingers. “Would having me live with you make you smile again?” 

Bilbo blinked, thoroughly being taken aback. Frodo was smart, too smart maybe. And his words hit Bilbo in the gut. He was right of course. A dark cloud had been following him since...since the battle. He did his best to hide it, but obviously it was not good enough. 

Frodo was still watching him, expecting. 

“Yes. I think so.” Bilbo nodded, smiling easily at the young faunt. Frodo beamed. 

“Then yes! I would love to live with you uncle Bilbo!” 

————

Frodo has brought happiness back into Bilbo. Laughter and life filled Bag-End once again. 

When Balin arrived, it was a surprise, but a welcome one. Ori and Oin and joined the older dwarf, and they all sat for supper. The three dwarrows had all taken to Frodo, who in turn was star struck at meeting three dwarves from his uncle's story.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you all, but why have you come?” Bilbo asked as the four of them, Frodo had been sent to bed, were sitting in the back garden, smoking. 

There was silence as Balin puffed on his pipe. “We’re going to reclaim Moria.” Bilbo nearly choked. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Moria laddie.” 

Bilbo blinked at the older dwarf before his gaze shifted to the other two. “With just the three of you?” 

“Of course not!” Ori laughed. “There’s hundreds of dwarrow marching there now. We’re to meet them.”

“Is this truly wise?” Bilbo asked, and Balin shrugged. 

“What is life without risks?” He grinned, and dissipate the dark feeling forming in Bilbo belly, he smiled back. “We were going tae ask ye if ye wanted tae join” Balin said after a moment. “But—“ he gestured to the smial, indicating Frodo. 

Bilbo nodded. “Does your king approve then?” 

“Aye. King Dáin was quite happy with the numbers. Moria will be a great addition.” 

“If we don’t die.” Oin grinned. 

“If we don’t die.”

————

“And how about very old friends?” 

Gandalf was a pleasant surprise. He had been hoping the wizard would come. He immediately jumped into his Baggins’ hospitality and offered him food and drink. Gandalf followed him but stopped at the dining room table. The map lay there, in a frame. A wave of nostalgia raced over Gandalf and he gently picked up the map. Beneath the frame was a stack of parchment. He pulled these out to examine the drawings upon the paper. Ori, his likeness unmistakable. The next was Dori, then Nori, then Bombur, Bifur, Bofur, Oin, Glóin, Dwalin, Balin. The next parchment was of the two Princes of Durin. Fili and Kili. In the drawing, Kili was laughing, and Fili looked both amused and annoyed. Bilbo has done a fine job replicating the two lads, far too young. 

And beneath the portrait of Fili and Kili was Thorin. 

He was staring intently off in the distance. 

The sound of porcelain on wood made Gandalf look up, only to see Bilbo before him, the cup of tea on the table, and his green eyes brimming with tears, gazing at the picture of his beloved. 

“I can’t get his eyes right.” Bilbo sniffled, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his nose. 

Gandalf looked again at the picture. He thought it looked perfect, but then again, he had not seen that face for sixty years. 

“It’s been sixty years.” Bilbo's voice, thick with emotion, pulled Gandalf’s attention back to the hobbit. “And it still feels like it happened yesterday” a sob cut off the last word, and he pressed the kerchief to his mouth. “You would think I would move on; heal.” Bilbo laughed, though it sounded more like a scoff. 

Gandalf watched his old friend with compassion and sympathy. “True love does not die” 

Bilbo smiled, small, wistful. His mouth opened but no words came and he settled with a nod. “Come! Tea is ready!” 

————

Who knew that the ring Bilbo had kept in his pocket for over sixty years had been the One Ring. The One to rule them all. The most powerful object in existence, sitting, collecting dust most of the time in Bilbo Baggins’ waistcoat pocket. 

It was almost laughable. But Frodo had to bear the burden. And it destroyed him.

Frodo was now nothing more than a shell of what he used to be. A husk. 

Bilbo's old heart broke, seeing the one who had pieced together the bits that had shattered at the death of the Durin line, so...lost. 

Frodo’s eyes, so blue, and once so lively, now empty, dark. It filled Bilbo with pain and guilt. The ring should not have been Frodo’s burden. Bilbo should have been the one to destroy it. He had found it. Frodo was innocent.

But no matter how he wished to go back, he couldn’t, what was done, was done. The past was in the past, and no amount of wishing and hoping would change that. He knew that better than anyone. 

Seeing Frodo smile on the ship, sailing to the undying lands, life back in the sky blue orbs. It was a weight lifted from Bilbo's soul. 

—————

Bilbo sat on a bench, his feet buried in white sand, soft, blue waves crashing softly against the sand. Bilbo kept his eyes on the waves, a smile on his face. He did not look up when someone sat next to him. He didn’t need to. 

“Hello my boy.” 

Frodo said nothing, watching the sea with his uncle. His very old, and frail uncle. They sat in silence, each to their own thoughts. 

Bilbo leaned back against the bench, sighing and grunting. His eyes shifted from the water to the sky, bright and blue, a beautiful blanket of fluffy clouds. 

“Do you think I’ll see him?” Bilbo asked after a long silence. 

Frodo looked at his uncle with a confused look. “Who?” 

“Thorin” 

Frodo blinked, he knew that name, knew the story. He also knew of Bilbo’s feelings for the dwarven king. Bilbo never said, but when the older hobbit would say the name, or tell a story of the King, his voice and the look on his face was enough for Frodo to piece together. 

Frodo swallowed, his eyes following Bilbo’s, looking into the sky. “Who can say?” 

Bilbo hummed, still smiling. “I hope so” 

“I do not think Yavanna would punish you and keep you two separate for any longer.” 

Bilbo nodded, his expression not changing. He looked at peace, and as if he were waiting for something. Frodo knew what he was waiting for, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t ready. 

“Uncle…” his voice broke, and finally Bilbo turned to him, eyes, withered and wise, wide. 

“Oh, my dear Frodo” Bilbo sounded half amused, half somber. “Do not weep for me.” He put a small, thin and wrinkled hand to his nephew's youthful face. “I have lived my life. And a very good one at that.” His thumb brushed away tears as they fell. 

“I know.” Frodo pressed his lips together, not meeting Bilbo’s eyes. “Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.” 

Bilbo made a sympathetic noise. “I am old, weak. Tired. I am ready. Ready to see the Garden. But know that I love you.” Frodo blinked, finally looked upon his uncle, his father. “You helped me live. Thank you.” Bilbo leaned forward and kissed Frodo's head. “You are the best thing in my life. But my life is at an end.” 

Frodo only nodded. Bilbo looked calm. He wanted this. He had been waiting for the moment for eighty years. 

“Now. Go on. Leave me.” Bilbo patted Frodo’s cheek and then leaned back in his seat, eyes moving back to the sky. “Let me rest.” 

Frodo swallowed down his sob and nodded. He paused once to take one last look at his uncle, and then he left. 

Bilbo watched the clouds, a smile never leaving his mouth and his eyes slipped shut. 

—————

Bilbo opened his eyes. He could see trees, the leaves framing a bright blue sky. There were no clouds now. Bilbo slowly became aware of his body and he sat up. 

He was laying in a field of green grass and bright flowers. Peony, lavender, violets. Peace. 

Birds chirped, bees buzzed, wind shuffled leaves. 

Bilbo breathed in deeply, the air was fresh, crisp. 

He slowly stood, noticing no pain in his hips, his knees, his back. Nothing. 

He wiggled his toes in the grass, grinning as he walked. He didn’t know where he was going, he just...moved. 

All around him, nature bloomed. He felt at home. 

Bilbo stopped upon seeing the first person on his small stroll. The lass was kneeling in the grass, humming as she made what looked like a flower crown. 

Her back was to him, and when he made a step to her, she looked over her shoulder. 

Her face was round, cheekbones high and rosy. Her nose was small, and her eyes, the greenest green Bilbo had ever seen. They were dark, and vibrant, much like pine needles. 

Her lips pulled into a large grin, emphasizing the apples of her cheeks even more and she scrambled to her feet. She was wearing simple but obviously hobbit clothing. Her hair, corkscrew curls, long and honey blonde. Decorated with ribbons and flowers. Daffodils and daisies. 

“Bilbo!” She greeted, her arms open. Her voice was like a song bird’s, and Bilbo knew her. 

“Yavanna” he whispered, shocked. 

She giggled, reaching out and taking Bilbo’s hand and pulling him into her arms. She was just shorter than him, and he could bury his nose in her hair. She smelt fresh. Like the earth. Like rain, like the sun. 

“Welcome home” she beamed at him, pulling away. She was still holding his hands and he looked at them, seeing his own hands, no longer thin and bony, not wrinkled. He let go of her hand to touch his own face, finding no evidence of his advanced age.

“I’m young again?”

Yavanna giggled. “Not exactly. This is your favorite version of you. It wouldn’t be fair to be in the after life and be stuck in a body you don’t like.” She reached up and combed some curls out of her face. “Though some do enjoy their older bodies, most prefer their prime.” She gestured at Bilbo pointedly.

“I see.” 

Yavanna grinned and patted his cheek. “I’m happy to meet you, but I have other children to greet.” She then turned to her right and pointed. “Just go that way. You’ll find where you need to be.” She then gave him one last pat on his arm and she was gone.

Bilbo blinked at where she had just been before he turned and followed her directions. 

The forest was thick, but the trees moved out of his way as he walked, and went back into place after he had passed. 

The trees parted and there was an open field, this one was not empty though. Two hobbits stood, holding each other as Bilbo emerged from the woods. 

“Bilbo” the hobbitess called, startling said hobbit. 

Bilbo blinked at the couple. Then his eyes widened. He knew those faces. Her hair was tightly curled and dark brown, eyes dark blue. The male also had dark brown hair, and eyes of the same color. He knew those faces. 

“Ma, pop?” Bungo and Belladonna grinned and ran to him, enveloping him in hugs. 

Bilbo laughed, gripping onto both his parents, alternating pressing his lips to their foreheads. 

————

The Gardens were cheerful. He met other members of his family, some he had once known, and others he only heard stories of. 

It was much like the Shire, with smials and plenty of food. Technically they didn’t need to eat, but eating and food were very important to Hobbits, even dead ones. 

The sky would grow dark, and fireflies would float in the clear sky. 

There was fishing, and dancing, and eating, and singing, and storytelling. It was like being home. 

Bilbo had stayed with his parents for a week, and as happy as he was to be with said parents again after so long, there were others he wished to see, others that were not in the Garden. 

He wasn’t sure where to go, and no one seemed to know how to find Yavanna. So he just walked. Surely he would find her, or something useful. 

“Lady Yavanna!” He called, looking around the trees. “Lady Yavanna!” He shouted for her every so often. “Lad—“

“Yes?” 

Bilbo jumped when the blonde appeared in front of him. “Oh Yavanna, you scared me!” He cursed on habit. 

She beamed at him, letting him catch his breath. Once he calmed down, she smiled politely. “What can I do for you Bilbo?” 

“Well, I was wondering if I could leave the Garden?” 

She blinked, seeming to think ‘why would anyone want to leave’ but before Bilbo could explain, a smile reappeared. 

“You wish to visit Mahal’s Halls.” 

“How did you—?” 

“I watched over you your whole life Bilbo. I helped groom your path, nurture your destiny, just as I have with all my children.” She smiled and turned, walking in what seemed like a random direction and Bilbo followed. “Also, about 320 years ago, Mahal came to me, and asked for a bit of your soul.” 

The nearly brought Bilbo up short. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Your soul. It was still growing, your destiny and fate still being formed, but Mahal and I agreed that you two were perfect matches.” 

“What? That didn’t answer my question.” 

“Dwarrows have something called “a One”. It’s the other half of their soul.” She turned to him over her shoulder. “You are Thorin’s One.” He could only stare at her, dumbfounded.

“But...hobbits don’t have ‘Ones’”

“No, they don’t. But Thorin was destined to be with you, love you, devote himself to you.” 

“If that’s that case, why did he die?” 

Yavanna sighed, sounding sad. “When a soul is created, their destiny is grown. Some are greater than others. Some are destined to reclaim a kingdom stolen from a dragon, some to destroy a ring, others are simply destined to make the best cherry pie.” She grinned good naturedly. “Everyone has something they are meant to do, and the path is laid before them, but everything that happens is up to them. One tiny thing, one choice, can change everything. The butterfly effect.” 

“So Thorin and I could have been together?” 

“Yes, it’s what Mahal and I wanted, but alas, something that happened, whether it was Thorin, or you, or even a goblin, someone did something and it upset the path that led to your happy ending.” Bilbo looked down at the ground, still following just a few steps behind her. “But you needn’t worry. Your happy ending can be now. And it’s not really an ending. Just the beginning of eternity.” She stopped at a creek. 

Directly in front of them, was a large creek, the water deep blue and reflecting the light. There was a bridge, dark wood, with vines growing around the rails. 

“This is the edge of the Garden.” Yavanna declared. “You’re welcome to come and go as you please.” She gestured with a flourish at the bridge “Now, just follow the trial, climb up the hill, and you’ll find the Halls. I promise, Mahal will let you enter. If he for some reason gives you trouble, tell him you are Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield’s One. He’ll let you in then.” She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and then she vanished with the wind. 

Bilbo looked over the bridge and after taking a deep breath and settling his nerves, he walked. 

The other side of the bridge had less trees, and a dirt path that led up. He followed, going up the hill. It wasn’t a steep hill, but it was a tall one. He was very thankful that things like pain and breathing were not a thing in the after life. Sure he still breathed, it just seemed natural, but it wasn’t needed. 

He walked and walked and walked some more. He was finally getting to the top of the crest when he saw it. A large building, so large he couldn’t see the ending. It was dark green, and made of stone. The Halls of Mahal. 

His dwarves were in there. 

Bilbo felt a smile pull at his lips and his heart pick up pace, and he did the same with his legs. He ran. 

He ran up another hill and skidded to a stop at the doors. They were the biggest pair of doors Bilbo had ever seen in his life. They were gold and black.

Should he knock?

Bilbo’s hand twitched as he thought. The sudden eagerness to see his dwarrow had dissolved and turned into nervousness and anxiety. Would they want to see him? Would Mahal let him enter? He wasn’t a dwarf. Surely a non-dwarf wasn’t allowed in the Halls. 

Bilbo was pacing along the length of the doors when they suddenly opened. 

Bilbo froze, his head high and shoulders stiff, waiting to see Mahal. 

“BILBO!!” but it wasn’t Mahal that came sprinting out of the large doors, but two dwarrow, one blonde, the other raven haired. 

“Fili?! Kili?!” Bilbo cried, letting the two envelope him in hugs. Tears welled in his eyes, gripping tightly to the backs of the boys' shirts. “Oh my boys” Bilbo sobbed, pressing kisses into thick hair. 

“We’ve been waiting for so long!” Kilo cried, his face buried in Bilbos neck. 

“We’ve been going to the Gardens for the past thirty years to see if you’ve arrived” Fili said, voice quieter than his brothers but still thick with emotion. “I’m glad you had a long life—“ 

“But we’ve missed you!” 

Bilbo was almost sobbing now, and laughing because he hadn’t felt this happy in a very long time. Frodo had helped, but hadn’t healed him fully, couldn’t truly replace what had been lost. 

“I’ve missed you two. So much.” 

They stood, holding tightly, Fili and Kili fighting over telling Bilbo stories. “Let me look at you” Bilbo’s said, pulling away to look upon the faces of the two he considered his nephews. They looked just as he remembered, young, bright, intelligent. “Oh, you two.” Bilbo felt fresh tears, seeing such youth upon their faces reminded him just how young they were when they died, that their life was taken far too soon. 

Fili and Kili smiled, though sympathetic, “don’t cry Bilbo. We’re happy.” That only caused him to cry more. He knew the Halls were a place of peace. No pain or suffering. “We had Uncle with us, we weren’t alone.” Fili said. 

“And we met our da, and grandfather, and grandmother, and great grandparents” 

Bilbo smiled at Kilis ramblings. It was comforting to see he was still the same. 

“Bilbo?” A deep, baritone voice cut through the noise. Bilbo’s eyes widened and he turned away from Kili. 

There he was. Thorin Oakenshield. Son of Thrain, son of Thror. The rightful King Under the Mountain, and the love of Bilbo’s life. 

Bilbo’s jaw worked as if trying to say something but nothing came out. 

Thorin was...handsome. His raven hair still wavy and long, a few white strands contrasted beautifully. His eyes as blue as the summer sky. He was dressed how he had when Bilbo first meet him at Bag End. Fur coat and all. 

He was majestic and beautiful and right in front of him.

“Thorin.” Finally words worked, but it came out as a quiet breath. 

Thorin smiled, his white teeth shining behind his dark beard. How could one being be so attractive? It was truly unfair. 

“I have waited for you” Thorin sounded just as breathless as Bilbo did. The King stepped closer to Bilbo, and Bilbo mirrored the movement. “It has been far too long, Master Burglar.” 

Bilbo sobbed and Thorin closed the last bit of distance, pulling Bilbo tight against him. Bilbo shoved his face into grey fur, his hand tight on the cloak. Thorin's hands were big on his waist, his body as warm as a forge. He easily enveloped Bilbo, with how much smaller the Hobbit was. 

Bilbo sobbed into Thorin’s chest, and Thorin did the same into the top of Bilbo's head. 

“I have dreamt of this day” Thorin said after a very long moment. “Since I first entered the Halls, I have wished for you.” 

“Me too” Bilbo whimpered, nuzzling under Thorin's chin. 

“I am glad you lived long, but I have _ached_ for you, _amrâlimê.”_

“And I you.” Bilbo looked up, his chin on Thorin's chest and Thorin gazed down at him. “There was not a moment gone by that I did not miss you.” He confessed. 

Thorin smiled. “You..” he paused, his eyes leaving Bilbos to take in the rest of his face. “You’re still so beautiful.” A big hand gently touched Bilbo's cheek, thick fingers wiping tears away. “Skin kissed by the sun, hair as gold as honey, eyes that could put any emerald to shame.” 

Bilbo sighed, his eyes slipping shut and he leaned into the hand. He felt so good to finally be touched by his...his One. 

Hobbits may not have Ones, but Bilbo did. He knew he did. There was no other explanation. 

Bilbo opened his eyes and looked up into Thorins. “Are you going to kiss me? Or am I going to have to wait for another eighty years?” 

Thorin grinned, and then closed the small space. 

Kissing Thorin was indescribable. He had thought of it, dreamed of it, even before the dwarrow met his ending. But no amount of fantasy could possibly begin to meet reality. 

Bilbo stood on his toes, his arms wrapping around Thorin’s neck, his fingers tangling in thick black cords of hair. Thorin’s hands encased Bilbo’s waist easily. It was a very mind dizzying feeling. 

Thorin suddenly pulled away but quickly grabbed Bilbo’s rump and hoisted him up in his arms, Bilbo's legs went automatically around Thorin’s waist. From this new position, Bilbo was now an inch above Thorin. 

“Come here” Thorin growled and Bilbo was happy to oblige. 

Bilbo held Thorin’s face in his hands, combing his hair and through his beard, as he explored Thorin’s mouth with his tongue, Thorin returning the favor. 

Large hands roamed over Bilbo’s thighs, hips, arse. It was when a hand started to sneak up Bilbo’s shirt that the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted them. 

They paused and slowly turned to look at Fili and Kili, who were still where they had left them, 

“You can’t hog Bilbo all to yourself.” Kili pouted, his arms crossed. “We missed him too.” 

Thorin only growled and turned to Bilbo, poking him in the jaw with his nose. Bilbo laughed, leaning into Thorin, and the dwarf kissed his neck.

“And there are others who would like to meet him, _nadad”_ that was a voice Bilbo had never heard and he turned back towards the Halls to see an audience had grown.

There were seven dwarves he had never seen, but judging by the resemblance, this was Thorin's family, 

Thorin rolled his eyes and sat Bilbo down. “Come, let me introduce you to my family,” 

The first was an older dwarf, his eyes as blue as Thorin’s. This was Thror, then a dwarrowdam. She was quite tall for a dwarf, taller than Thorin even. This was his grandmother, Thror’s wife, Trisa. Then came his father Thrain, and his mother Fris. Thrain, just like Thror, was quite intimidating, but Fris was lovely, all smiles. An odd thing for a dwarrow to be so open with a stranger. 

There was Frerin, Thorin’s younger brother. He had black hair and blue eyes, just like Thorin, but he had a very friendly smile, like Fris. It was then Bilbo realized that it was the same smile as Kili. 

Then came the last two. Bilbo could tell immediately who they were just by looking at them. The female, with dark black hair and bright blue eyes, just like the rest of her family, and her resemblance to Kili was uncanny. This was Dis, Thorin’s sister, Fili and Kili's mother. The dwarf at her elbow was Vili, a blonde dwarf with friendly brown eyes. Fili was no doubt his son. 

After meeting the Durins, the company made an entrance. Seeing everyone again made fresh tears fill Bilbo's eyes. Everyone was just as happy to see Bilbo as he was to see them, and Thorin’s family seemed to accept him.

He hoped his family would do the same with Thorin.

“Now that introductions have been made, and reunions done,” Thorin said, squeezing Bilbo's hand, which he had been holding the whole time. “I wish to go ravish my One” 

Bilbo’s face went bright red but Thorin took no mind to it as he lifted Bilbo over his shoulders like he was a sack of potatoes, and carried him off to the woods with the hoots and hollers from the company and Frerin following them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I cried writing this, just so you know.  
> Please let me know what you thought and if I should continue writing in the Tolkien fandom.


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